


Wayward King

by Vharzosi



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Erotica, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-11 16:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vharzosi/pseuds/Vharzosi
Summary: As the night wears on, an outcast King Dimitri rests fitfully in the Goddess Tower when he is haunted by a fresh guilt: Byleth appears before him. He cannot accept this new ghost, and reacts violently to prove it is another hallucination.(Horny) Rewrite of the reunion between Dimitri and Byleth.One-Shot





	1. Chapter 1

Why am I here? I recall screaming, tearing my way up the stairs in a fury of blood, more screaming, legs severed into halves by my blade, begging. Every man I cut down begged for revenge. Bandits or soldiers? I could not tell. It did not matter.

The moon pooling through the windows mocks me, begs for someone more worthy to illuminate. Here at least I have the upper ground. I can rest in the shadows.

* * *

My senses alight - someone approaches. I open my eye to see they are already here. Have I become so dull? No... it is another apparition. If the screaming would stop, I might weep, but only fury rises up in it's place.

"Leave! Begone! Your voice is not one of the cacophony of revenge that haunts me!" The apparition stays, the glowing vision of Byleth. He has brought with him father, mother, their forms waiting in the shadows beyond the moonlight, gaping in agony. "You killed yourself when you went back into battle, you are no specter of mine!"

The wailing is so loud, but his voice is not among them. I wait to hear his screams, if only to remember the sound of his voice. Perhaps I would suffer his memory merely to have his company once again.

"Say something, monster!" He dares to look at me with pity! "Speak!"

"I am here Dimitri."

"No! Curse me, but do not taunt me!" I will cut this new torture down, this fresh cruelty. If it says it is here, it is real, then I can be rid of it. I am still able to stand on these weary legs.

"Dimitri."

With each step I expect it to vanish, or to recede: ever out of my reach like my family who haunts me. It waits. When I reach out, I can touch it. The madness that consumes me has become so severe.

"Your face seems real enough, but I am sure under that armor there rots a fetid corpse!" A dagger will be enough to reveal it's true nature. I wrench the creature forward by it's cape. It makes no move to fight; the knife slides easily between the straps of it's breastplate. The creature braces itself, but still offers little resistance. The breastplate straps sundered, it falls to the ground with a thud, as I slash the cape from it's back, the shirt from it's torso. The skin underneath is crossed with scars, but solid; not the putrid flesh, crawling with maggots I expected to find.

"Speak, dammit!" I shook the monster, throwing it to the ground. "If you are here to taunt me, make your grievance known! I have no time for this, can you not hear them coming?!" I heard my knife hit the ground; had I dropped it? My hands were now around my ears. "AAAAGGH!"

I blink, and this thing in the shape of a man I once loved was in front of me, hands over my hands, guarding my ears.

"Does it help?" Does it help he asks. The wails are coming from me, they issue from inside. This is all I can do.

"It does not help... It's here." I move one of his hands over my chest.

If this vision of Byleth can help me, I would risk it. If he uses this chance, my weakness, to kill me, it will be the end that I have searched for. The other apparitions who screamed for revenge would not let me rest, would not take form to kill me themselves. But the Professor, even as a ghost... surely he would put me to rest himself. While I took pleasure in the kill, Professor Byleth never let his opponents suffer.

I remain as stone while he unclips my mantle, pulling it away to fall on the ground behind him. He could cut the armor from my body as I did to him, but instead takes great care to unlatch each belt, unlace each tie. I could do it now, I could stab him and still save myself; I know now he is mortal, as my knife left several cuts across his arms, his chest. The ghost bleeds.

I do not want to save myself; I could not murder even the ghost of a man without fault such as Byleth; not to save my own wretched skin. I can only hope he is as careful in killing me as he is with disarming me.

He slides my shirt over my head.

I feel dangerous.

Trapped.

I am cornered and without weapon; my sword belt he tossed across the chamber without my notice. My teeth chatter from the cold that blows through the tower. I did not realize I was still so human. My armor had become my flesh for so many years.

"I am... scared."

"...Of dying?"

"I am scared you will not kill me. This is cruel. End me already."

"I cannot."

"No!" I lunged at this monster, pinning it to the ground. "You must! No one else can! If you do not kill me, then I will kill you! Let it be pinnacle of my sins!" He had failed to take my every weapon; I pull the short knife from my boot. The Sword of the Creator still on his belt, his arms unpinned, he had moments to stop me with a fatal blow. The Sword could extend as only the Creator's Sword can, to wrap around my neck, my blood spilling across his face. Laughter escapes me.

He does nothing.

He only takes the wrist of the hand that holds the knife, but not with any force.

"You can't hurt me Dimitri"

I plunge the knife down.

I stab again and again. I feel the blood spattering across my face.

But it is not real.

He does not flinch as the knife destroys the cape beneath him, as it moves closer to his face with each thrust. Those eyes look into me, brimming with the moon's glow. He merely squeezes my wrist, forcing my fingers to release their grip.

"Please." I beg. "Kill me. Kill me."

"No." He strokes me face as though a lover, disregarding my attempt to sink a knife into his skull. For the first time in years, I feel a heartbeat, my heartbeat-

His knee plunges into my stomach and I fall flat onto him, gasping for air.

"That's for asking me to kill you and calling me a monster." He pulls his legs out from beneath me, wrapping them around my own to lock me into place. With a single motion, he pivots our bodies. Landing himself on top, he pins me in a choke hold. "I am your Professor and your Commander. You may hear many voices, but mine is the only one that matters. Mine will be the only one that tells who whom to kill." He presses harder against my throat.

"Echk!"

"Do you understand?" He relents only enough for me to nod. He smiles softly, inclining his head to approve.

"Your Majesty."

* * *

With my promise of obedience, his body relaxes across mine. Though I am released, he remains languid on top of my aching torso, his hands run the length of my chest. He finds two ribs, long broken, and the collarbone I fractured some weeks past.

Without word or even a grunt, he pushes himself to sit over me. I am without power to resist or care; if he will not kill me, at least I will commend my body to his will. He may yet have mercy. Instead, he raises his hands in front of him, eyes closed in concentration.

It had escaped my memory that he maintains some degree of White Magic ability. His hands began to glow softly. He uses both over the broken ribs, pushing each back into place carefully, while warmth and pain cascade my chest.

"Aagh! It hurts!"

"I know."

"Stop!" I command, but do not enforce it.

Where he ribs had healed without repair, they were rebroken and made new as they should be. When he took his hands away, I felt nothing of the sharp, miserable pain that had plagued me for two years or more; I can not remember when they were broken.

"One more." The healing of my collarbone was painless, as he massaged one hand along it's length. Another pain I had learned to ignore vanished.

Still arranged across my hips, he pulls me up to embrace me. Feelings that I thought I had purged from my wretched soul take hold.

"I am so sorry, Byleth." Shame is my most pressing regret, clawing its way up through the still ringing voices of the dead. "I have failed even your lowest expectations."

"That you are still alive is accomplishment enough. You look aged." I pull away from him to study his own face, still the same, no lines of suffering. He must see the shock in my eye. "How long have I been asleep Dimitri?"

"... Five years." Byleth does not react as most might, though I would not expect him to. He simply looks out toward the moon.

He still appears like a dream. In my arms he still feels like an illusion, and it is no wonder I can barely accept him as real, as human. I am sure that I am a sore sight in the moon's gaze, drained of color and ragged. But he glows. As if he was made from the starlight. My heart quickens once more, painful. I consider that my body is now his.

When he turns back toward me, mouth open to speak, I pull him into me. I have waited and suffered for five years, wanting only two things: blood and death. I would still have them, but for a brief moment, this is much sweeter.

He does not resist, does not tense in shock or pleasure. Instead, his body relaxes deeper in my arms as I overpower him, forcing my tongue into his mouth, pushing until I can run its tip along back of his own tongue.

As he wraps his arms around my back, the panic sets it.

It could be another trick. A trap. I seize his wrists, lowering him to the stone floor behind him. A precaution. I have lain him into the shadows, the moonbeam cutting across his pale stomach, where I would gut him if he betrays me. His eyes yet shine from the dark.

Unwilling to take risk, I bend his wrists under his back, pushing until they cross and reach his shoulder blades.

"It hurts Dimitri."

"As it should. What do you expect of a monster?"

"There is only a King above me." His bright eyes stare into me, half lidded, hazy.

His confidence makes me swell, pushing hard against the rough fabric about my waist. Heat rises to my face. The ferocity I feel in battle is not dissimilar; ravenous, but now with an willing feast spread before me. The urge to destroy is the same. The hunger is hardly more gentle.

Still with him pinned by the chest, I reach down to wrench from him what little clothing remains, his pants still too intact to ravage him. He seems discomforted, smooth skin sliding along the stone, but his eyes continue to beg. Mercy.

Even as I sink my fingers into my mouth, my teeth feel as those of a wolf, salivating over a spring kill after a hard winter. Another hallucination, but truer to my nature.

He cannot hide it; engorged, eager as I am, as hungry in the eyes. I sink my fingers into him, only knuckles stopping me. Hard pushing, twisting and plunging. The saliva still dripping from my lips, a mad animal.

"... Aah! Unnh! Ah... Aah!" The only screams I hear for the moment. Legs shaking, he tries to bring himself closer by his hips. I pull my fingers away inch by inch, so he may struggle to force them back in.

"Come, Byleth, closer."

"Mmnnnh..."

"You are not so reserved with your cries as you are with your speech. I want to hear them louder still." When I pull my hand away, he moans his disappointment. His body remains twisted, still bent back over his arms, having slid beneath his lower back... but he is no threat now.

I want more. I want from him the labored breathing of struggle and bracing, locked in passionate battle. I want him glowing. Strong as he may be, he is easy enough to lift up, returning his muscular form onto the cape and into the moon's cast.

"Open your eyes." He looks on me again, as I crave.

"Are you so easily satisfied, King Dimitri?"

"No." King. The word haunts me, but my body loves to hear him proclaim it. He lifts up on his elbows, still hard breathing, his brows furrowed.

"Take what you need." He looks tired. I know his limits.

And I do not care.

I shove him down, push his legs back, taking what I want. I take him hard and fast, a fury of lunging and pulling, thrusts, over again, to much different cries. I take the hilt of him, stroking with each warm push inside of him. I am a merciful King.

"-Ah! -Ah! -Ah! -Ah! -Dimitri! -Ah! -DIMITRI!" His cries come in thrusts and strokes.

"-I! -Am! -Your! -King!"

"My King! King Dimitri! King-! King-! Dimi-Ah!" I takes me too long to realize his hands are free. My heart beats out of rhythm, cold in suspicion as he raises them; but they only reach to pull through his hair, combing and squeezing. His desperation, the passion twisting his face in a visage of pleasure I have never seen, brings me to climax. My legs lock and twitch as I finish inside of him.

"Take me. Take your King... Take..." I stroke him in slowing motions. He begins to throb and writhe, pleasure spilling over himself not seconds after having filled him.

"Dimitri... "

I loom over him for a while longer, still asking myself if he is real. 

* * *

The morning dawns, neither of us having found rest after leaving the tower to find a defensible patch of grass. It is softer here, but too much occupies my mind, and I suspect Byleth has had enough of sleeping.

He begins to make a decent camp, a proper fire burning in minutes, pulling my mantle around him for lack of an intact shirt. I make no move. My body feels odd and tired. How to behave escapes me, only anger answering my question of how to meet the new day. I remain silent. I will wait for command.

Footsteps emerge with the sun. I spring to my feet, but Byleth raises a hand to halt me.

"My King... is it truly you?"

"... Sir Gilbert."

"Yes Sir. I can't believe it was true. You're here. And..." His gaze moves toward the fire. Byleth stares right into him... but does Gilbert see him? Is this a last cruel joke on the mad King; that the fire built itself and he was never here at all?  
He turns back to face me and makes no mention of the Commander.

"Gilbert, what do you see?"

"Two ghosts and campfire."


	2. Artwork




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